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Amie
Keddy
Amie
Keddy's work has appeared in Free Verse, Can We Have Our Ball Back?, DMQ Review, and
Forklift. She is a graduate of Bennington College's Writing Seminars Program, and teaches English literature and studio art at
the Bement School. She runs Press4Press and is the co-editor of FRAME.
Book Becomes Temple
If I am an honorary Jew, then this book
of verse ascends. A walk through town:
the catholic church of childhood --
doors once open always for
mahogany scented pews to play
on the street.
I don't know why small town sidewalks cut off mid-block.
I saw Nancy Drews hover above my bed --
a flap of spiritual wings.
Word by word, I prayed all night without knowing
prayers.
The priest in his closet
wore a fishnet veil and I couldn't read
his eyes.
There's always a fence somewhere.
Trailer park fathers mowing. Weed whacking
and a few mud-faced toddlers
chasing obstinate leaves blown in from the Talmud;
ones a father cursed for
flitting out beyond
his beer belly.
This Fruit From Her Body
From your head four birds depart
after they've gossiped.
This means another chance at life.
I won’t bother to ask
how many are needed.
We dust every week. Spray polish
on torn pajama rags. I hold
the key to immortality in my dirty hand.
When I am alone
the black on my feet
seems more interesting somehow.
I read mystics. A green lion creeps
out from my ear.
copyright © Amie Keddy
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